Surrender to the Duke (The Wayward Woodvilles Book 6) Page 2

  He smiled at her. The deep-purple tone of her gown made her eyes a vibrant shade of green. The pit of his stomach clenched, and hope flittered through him that his choice of bride was satisfactory. He had been worried the chemistry he felt for Miss York was lackluster at best. Yes, she ticked all his boxes of what type of woman he ought to marry, but this evening, after having been away from Miss York for several days, he knew he was making the right decision. She was more beautiful this evening than he had ever seen her before, but there was something different about her he could not place. Not that it mattered. His gut told him his choice was correct, which counted most.

  "I am, Miss York. All the more knowing that you are here." He sipped his champagne, giving himself courage. He'd never proposed to anyone before, which was not as simple as he first thought. "I was hoping to steal you away, to speak to you if you're willing. The terrace doors are open, and we will not be entirely alone."

  Her eyes widened at his request, and after the many weeks of his courtship, she would be foolish if she did not have some inkling of what he was about to ask.

  She took a fortifying breath and downed the last of her champagne. "Of course, my lord. A little turn on the terrace would be refreshing indeed," she said.

  He held out his arm and she settled her hand upon it, then he escorted her outside. The warm evening air was refreshing after the stifling ball, and he led her along the terrace a little, giving them some privacy.

  "I should imagine you're not so blind to know why I wished to speak to you."

  "My lord, before another word is spoken—"

  "That is to say, you must know how much I admire and like you, Miss York."

  She bit her lip, something she had never done before, and the sight of her pretty lip held between her teeth made heat lick at his skin. He rolled his shoulders, his coat and cravat all of a sudden too stifling to wear. He rubbed a hand over his brow. Was he sweating?

  "Of course, my lord, but—"

  "And it is because of those emotions," he said, "that I must do the right thing as a gentleman and ask you, Miss York, to be my wife." He smiled, relieved to have finally spoken the words necessary for their courtship to come to a satisfactory end. "Will you marry me?"

  Chapter

  Three

  Now was the time to tell him. To let him know that her sister did not want to marry him, but the words would not form on her tongue. Instead, she stared at him, probably resembling a deer caught between two predators and not knowing which way to run to escape.

  She clasped her hands in front of her, hoping her voice didn't tremble as she feared it would. She had never received an offer of marriage, even if this one wasn't hers. Still, it left her feeling all at odds and not at all comfortable.

  "My lord, thank you for your kind offer," she said, meeting his eyes and hoping the expectation on his face did not mean he thought Harlow would agree to the marriage. They had only known each other for weeks at best. No, they had met at a house party several years ago, so they were not-too-recent friends. But still, there had been little contact after the Duke and Duchess of Derby’s wedding. As Harlow had stated herself, he was only interested now because her sister had been named the diamond of the Season.

  She shook the thought aside, concentrating on the assignment at hand. "Truly, it is a great honor to receive an offer from you, but I'm not certain that we're compatible," she said.

  He raised his brows, a small smile twisting up his lips that did not quite reach his eyes. Oh dear, he was disappointed in the answer. She hated to make anyone upset, and she had always been too quick to please others. Hence, why she was here in the first place, letting a lord of the realm down adequately because her sister could not.

  "I do not know what to say, Miss York. I thought your feelings were engaged."

  "Oh, but they are," she blurted before she could wrench them back. Stop this, Lila! You're making this whole situation even worse. "I do like you, my lord. I merely wish to have my Season without the complications of being betrothed to you or anyone."

  "Ah," he said, his smile more genuine. "You need time. Well that, Miss York, I can give you if that is what you wish. I will not push you, of course. I would never want to make you do anything you did not want. But may I defer until the end of the Season for a response from you? After you have the time you desire?" he asked.

  He asked so sweet and politely that Lila found herself nodding, not knowing what else she could do. She could not state that it wasn't time that she needed after all, but that her sister did not want to marry him and was too much of a coward to tell him to his face. There were only a few weeks left of the Season. It would not be so hard to keep her distance and remain aloof. He would soon lose interest and look elsewhere for a wife. And then, before she returned to Grafton, she would explain again that she did not want to marry him, or at least her sister did not, and go home.

  What a mess!

  "Thank you, my lord, that is very kind of you, but what if you find another you wish to marry? Maybe you should not wait for me, as fickle of mind as I am." Lila cringed at her words, knowing she had made her sister sound flippant and not at all loyal.

  He took in her words a moment, and her heart hurt for him. After all his careful and devoted words, did he suspect Harlow did not feel the same and was merely grasping the last small thread to give him hope?

  The idea hurt her heart since she had always carried a little infatuation for the gentleman.

  Lila took in his features. She had not seen him for several years, not since her friend's wedding, and he was as handsome as she remembered. Not that she thought he would remember her at all. Even when she was in town, she failed to catch the attention of any eligible man. That had not changed in all the years she had remained in Grafton.

  Even if her friend Hailey invited her to London each year, she had refused. She did not want to look more desperate than she was already deemed merely by her age alone.

  She inwardly sighed. How she would have loved Lord Billington to turn his attentions toward her. He was handsome, lean, broad-shouldered, and had a jaw cut from stone, she was certain. No, handsome was too benign a word to term him. He was utterly devastating to the eye, and that Harlow had caught that gaze, well, she could not help but wonder what was wrong with her sister that she did not fall at his feet like every woman in the ton had been trying to do for years.

  The man her sister loved must be a Greek god if she would turn down Billington.

  "I'm a patient man, Miss York, and after all, it will give me more time to change your mind." His wicked grin made heat kiss her cheeks, and she inwardly cringed when she let out a small giggle.

  He is not saying these things to you, Lila, but to Harlow. Remember that, you dolt.

  "Come, we shall return inside, and I will leave you to enjoy your evening, but for this night only. I have until the end of the Season to ensure your mind is clear and you know what you want. Namely me," he said, wiggling his brows.

  Lila chuckled, taking his arm and letting him lead her back indoors. Her pleasure was short-lived when the Duchess of Derby strolled up to them, her smile forced and a contemplative light in her eyes.

  "Lila, how very good to see you," she said, kissing her cheek. "I have missed you this Season. Is Harlow coming back to town soon? I would like to see her finish out the Season."

  Lila fumbled to reply and looked to Lord Billington who appeared as confused as she was panicked. She cleared her throat and forced a smile on her lips. "You are mistaken, Your Grace. I am Harlow. Lila is back in Grafton, but I shall write, and convey to her your demand. I'm certain she will act and come to see you soon."

  "Oh, I thought,” the duchess hesitated. “Well, forgive me for confusing you with your sister. Even so, if I know Lila well, and I know her very well," the duchess stated, smiling up to Lord Billington. “She will not heed my request and will remain in the country.”

  “That is probably true, Your Grace,” Lila answered.

  "Lord Billington, it is good to see you again, but if you'll excuse me, I must speak to Miss York alone. Much to discuss, you understand," she said.

  Lord Billington bowed to them both, an understanding smile on his mouth. "Of course. Until tomorrow, Miss York, I bid you a good evening."

  Lila dipped into a curtsy. "Good evening, my lord." No sooner was she standing again had the duchess wrenched her to the side of the room away from the surrounding ton.

  "I know it’s you, Lila, what are you doing here pretending to be Harlow? I knew that you were not your sister when I saw you with his lordship. What has she managed to navigate you into?" she demanded, her words severe, and yet, scrutinizing the duchess, anyone watching them would assume they were speaking of pretty things like gowns and fragrant gardens.

  Lila sighed, not quite believing she was here doing what she was either. She explained to Hailey the plan and how it had already gone astray. The duchess stared at her, mute for the first time in all the years she had known her, and dread balled in her stomach.

  "Please tell me this is not what you have done. What if Billington finds out about this trickery? He'll be devastated and made to feel a fool. I do not like this plan at all."

  "Well, neither do I, but Harlow was insistent that she could not let him down herself. She stated he was kind, even if a little aloof, and that to tell him no was beyond her capability. So I'm doing the deed instead, as silly and awful as that may sound."

  "It's very foolish." The duchess’s lips thinned into a displeased line. "If she is old enough to have a Season, she is old enough to let a gentleman down when he asks for her hand, and the feelings are not reciprocated."

  "I know." Lila sighed again. "I tried to persuade her otherwise, but no matter what she said to Billington to di
ssuade him, nothing worked. I'm the last resort."

  "You need to tell him soon that his suit is not wanted."

  "I tried," she said, a little too loudly, catching other guests' attention. "But he did not listen to me. He took my words as a means to give him another several weeks before he would ask again. He thinks to change my mind."

  The duchess’s brows rose, and a small, amused smile crossed her lips. "What if he tries to seduce you to his charms? Do you know if your sister has ever kissed his lordship?"

  "I do not believe so. She is not romantically interested in his lordship and deep down she does not think he is interested in her either. Not really. That he is merely bedazzled a little by her being the diamond of the Season. Harlow is keen on Lord Kemsley and hopes for a courtship with him next Season."

  "Hmm, well, let us hope you are right, but Billington is a man, and a very handsome, virile one. What if he does try to kiss you? Whatever will you do?"

  "I will not kiss him back," she stated. The thought of doing such a thing was beyond comprehension. She had never kissed a man in her life, even if the one man she had only ever wondered about had been Billington. But that was only because he was one of the first titled gentlemen she had met at Hailey's wedding. No doubt, a little of her infatuation resulted from her being awestruck by his grandeur and his looks.

  He was devastatingly handsome, after all.

  "It is not so easy as that, my friend. Some men are hard to resist. I know that better than anyone." Hailey cast a look toward the duke, who met his wife's eyes across the ballroom floor, a knowing smile passing between them.

  That look—devotion, and love wrapped so tightly together that the bond was unbreakable—was what she wanted too. When they had married, her heart had stirred, and she knew she would never settle for less than what her friend had. In her Seasons in town, no one had ever tried to get to know her, win her heart for themselves. Not even Billington, who at that time was more rake and rogue than a man trying to find a wife.

  But this year, it seemed his mind had changed. Why had she not come to town with her sister? Maybe he would have turned his attention to her instead of Harlow. Maybe even now, she would have been engaged to the man of her dreams.

  Fanciful, but still what she would have loved had it come to fruition. "Do not be concerned with that, Hailey. I will not be doing anything that will prolong this agony."

  "I cannot believe either of you thought this was a good idea."

  "I did not," she defended. "I tried to talk her into returning and doing all of this herself, but she flatly refused. I did not think anyone would recognize me. I'm only here to end the Season and hoped to avoid you."

  "Yes, I can see that because you know I would pick you out of a thousand Harlows, and I did. You realize you have a mole above each of your lips on different sides of your face, do you not?"

  "We're not twins," she argued. "And yes, I'm aware."

  "But you look like twins, and Billington has no idea." Hailey shook her head, a frown between her brows. "I do not like this idea, Lila, and I fear this will not end well."

  Lila groaned. "You are not the only one."

  Chapter

  Four

  The following morning Lila sat in the drawing room at her aunt's London home, flipping through the pages of the latest La Belle Assemblée. Her aunt sat before the fire, something she always had burning no matter how warm the days were in London.

  Today was no exception. Lila had set herself as far away from the heat as possible, but still, she felt the prickling on her skin and the small sheen of sweat in the stifling room.

  A knock on the door sounded, and her aunt bade the servant entry.

  "A Lord Billington to see Miss York," he stated, waiting at the door for a reply.

  Lila looked to her aunt, whose large smile told her all she needed to know about her aunt's thoughts of Harlow being courted by the viscount.

  "Oh well, send him in, James. We are at home for such visitors," her aunt said, patting her hair and putting away her knitting.

  Lila stood when Lord Billington strode into the room. She pushed down the nerves and butterflies she felt every time she was in his presence. He was so tall, stately, and seemed to vaporize all the air in the room, leaving her breathless.

  "Mrs. Chapman, Miss York, I hope you do not mind my calling on you without an invitation, but the day is very fine, and I thought Miss York might like a drive about Hyde Park," he offered. His smile, which always affected the ladies of the ton, seemed to function well on her aunt too, and a light, rose blush spread across her cheeks.

  "I'm certain Harlow would like that very much, Lord Billington. You may take my maid, Harlow, as chaperone," she said.

  Lila knew there was little she could do to get herself out of this situation, and so she did what every young lady in her position would do. She looked pleased about the outing, even if it weren't truly meant for her.

  Maybe the opportunity to tell him that she did not wish to marry him would arise again, and he would believe her this time.

  "I will go fetch my bonnet, my lord and meet you on the front steps, if that is agreeable?" she asked him.

  He nodded. "Of course."

  Lila slipped past him, ignoring the lump of nerves in her stomach. He smelled divine today, sandalwood, a raw and earthy scent she had always coveted. Did he wash with soap of the same scent, or did he use some lotion after bathing?

  The idea of him lathering his skin, running his large hands over his muscular form made her knees tremble.

  How was she to stop acting like a besotted fool when it was not even her that Billington was interested in? He wanted to marry her sister, not herself.

  She needed to remember that fact now more than ever.

  A few minutes later, the maid following close on her heels, they left the house, the carriage waiting before the steps with two chestnut mares dozing in the afternoon sun. Lila took Billington's hand to step up into the carriage. His fingers were warm, and his thumb caressed the top of her hand through her gloves, making goosebumps rise on her skin.

  Oh dear, her agreeing to help her sister was a foolish idea. How was she supposed to stop reacting to him when all she did was respond to his every word and touch?

  Maybe she should flee to Grafton and let him come to their home where she could let her sister do what she should always have done in the first place.

  With her maid seated behind her with a footman, Billington settled beside her and picked up the reins, urging the horses to move on.

  "The streets are busy this afternoon. I suppose people are making the most of the warm weather we're enjoying today," Lila stated. She bit her bottom lip, hating that her conversation ideas were less than interesting. It was all her mind's fault. If she did not speak of the weather, she could be tempted to talk of how handsome his profile was or if she could feel his arm to prove to herself that it was as taut as she imagined.

  Oh dear lord, she was a wanton.

  This is what happens when a woman of six and twenty is left to rusticate out in the country for too many years.

  "It is why I wanted to extract you from the indoors and enjoy an outing with you. A little time in the sun makes your cheeks a very becoming shade of pink." He grinned at her. "I noticed the last time we went on such a jaunt."

  Lila met his eyes, hoping he did not ask her about their previous carriage ride about the park as Harlow had not told her of it, what they had seen, or to whom they had talked.

  That he thought her pretty when blushing brought pleasure to her, even though she knew the compliment wasn't for her. Playing someone else's role was difficult, and she wasn't prepared for it. He would find her out, then hate her and Harlow forever.

  The thought that she would hurt him was wretched, and she should tell him the truth now. Or at least demand that he listen to her answer to his marriage question and set him free.

  "I do not deserve such compliments, my lord," she said instead. "Not after I failed to give you the answer you require. You ought to complement other young ladies who do seek your favor." There, she had said again that she was not looking for a union with him, more forthright than she had at the ball last evening.